Picture Perfect
by Anubis and Osiris
Summary: Draco is a painter and Harry is a punk. When Harry ruins a painting of Draco's he is sentenced to redo another...but falls in love!
1. Default Chapter

~Picture Perfect~  
  
(Osiris~ title is underconstruction- may change!)  
  
Draco Malfoy, 15, wiped the sweat from his eyes and stepped back as his eyes scanned avidly.  
  
"Perfect..." he whispered, taking the paint brush once more and scribbled his signature.  
  
He glanced at it once more- an angel with large white wings perched, her legs both on the left, facing the viewer, on the back of a motorcycle, her long white-golden hair floating majestically; her almost transparent wings not blocking the view of a dark-haired man with bright green eyes and a lightning bolt on the shoulder of his leather jacket.  
  
He wiped the paint off his cheek, only succeeding to get more on, and smiled at the completion of his two year project.  
  
Getting everything into perspective, shadowing, inking, painting, it all paid off just to get a look at it.  
  
He was sure to get at least second place.  
  
He turned his back and washed his hands under the sink in the corner of the room, took one last look and left, closing the door tightly and locking it after him.  
  
**  
  
"Draco Malfoy!" his mother, Narcissa, chided, "Past eight! I don't know what's gotten into you lately," she sighed and put a plate of rice and fried beef into his hands, "Eat. Then wash your face, you've gotten pastel on it."  
  
"Yes, mum," he took the foot and chewed on the chopsticks until he reached his room. A terrible pain filled is heart and he dropped the food into the trash can trying to figure out what it meant...  
  
**Next Morning**  
  
Harry Potter, 15, grinned, "What a prick," he sneered, then took a pose- his feet together, his back straight, and his hands together, "'Peeeerfect," he crooned causing his best friends Hermione Granger, Ron, George, and Fred Weasley to burst into laughter.  
  
"What do you say we trash it?" Fred asked, his eyes shining with mischeif.  
  
"Moi? Trash art?!" Harry threw a look that shone with false offense, "Never!"  
  
"Then I'll start!" Hermione took a paint scraper (really sharp knives bent at a point) and tossed it to Harry who caught it by the handle.  
  
"So these art geeks can have knives, but I can't?" he asked with mock sadness, but let Geoge throw one first.  
  
It landed right between the biker's eyes.  
  
"Y'know, if you tilt your head like this and squint your eyes, it looks alot like you!" Ron contorted his face.  
  
They laughed.  
  
"You look like you're trying to shit," Hermione handed him a scraper.  
  
"She's not very pretty," Ron jabbed it into her heart.  
  
Fred splashed red paint across the angel.  
  
They heard movement.  
  
Hermione quickly looked outside, "Snape! Scatter!" she whispered.  
  
Hermi went out the window, Ron went out hte back door, and Fred and George went out the other window.  
  
Harry was about to leap out a window, but a thin hand gripped onto his arm.  
  
"Potter," he whispered, "That was our best student's best art and you ruined it..."  
  
"I'm sure he can...whip up another," Harry blinked innocently, often getting away with things by kissing the greasy-haired professor whose hair only appeared greasy- it was quite soft and dry.  
  
"Not this time- that took two years, Potter," he glared maliciously, "Today you will tell him exactly what you did and help him create a first place painting and in turn you must participate in an extraciricular activity in the srping festival- you have three months. Wait here," he turned on his heel and leaving him alone.  
  
Harry stared up and swore he saw a tear fall from the angel's eye.  
  
He heard a gasp that made him jump, "My...my...my angel....." Draco murmured, bringing his hand to his signature.  
  
"Look-"  
  
"Do you know who did this?" Draco asked, tears shining in his big, beautiful, blue eyes.  
  
Harry felt ashamed for once in his life and shook his head, "Not a clue...but...I'lll help you redo another.."  
  
"If someone hated my picture so badly," Draco wiped away a tear, "I don't want to ever paint again," he turned and ran down the hallway, but Harry was quicker.  
  
He grabbed Draco's wrist, "C'mon, let's show those....deliquints...who's boss! We'll show them!" He held out his hand.  
  
Draco stared at it.  
  
"Harry Potter..."  
  
Draco took it, "Draco Malfoy..."  
  
"We'll start today...in the..." he tried to think of somewhere where his friends wouldn't find him, "The playground!"  
  
"Okay," Draco beamed up at him. 


	2. love

Osiris: Okay, if you don't like this story just because I haven't updated until today, then you can bite my ass! My god! It was my fault because I didn't type it up until today (Anubis writes it on paper during classes that are SO FREAKIN BORING and I type them up) and she had had it typed up, but some bitch stole it from the computer...SO GRR!  
  
Anubis: sticks out tongue and blows a loud raspberry  
  
Harry sat on a rusty swingin the playground watching the blond boy.  
  
The boy would glance up occationallu at Harry, his brows furrowed. Harry began to swing and pumped his legs, going higher and hish.  
  
He jumped from the swing, landing a couple of feet away from where Draco sat on the merry-go-round.  
  
Harry walked over to Draco and stood beside him.  
  
Draco pushed his sketchbook against his chest and smiled shyly, "You wanna see?" Draco asked as he looked up at Harry.  
  
He shrugged, "I guess," he sat down next to Draco and the blond held out the book to Harry.  
  
Harry looked at the picture and he saw himself sitting on a motorcycle grining widely.. He had on a leather jacket with a lightning bolt on its sleeve. His hair was wind-ruffled and his eyes bright, "It's like looking into a photo."  
  
"You like it?" he asked as he looked closer at Harry, his eyes sparkling with innocence.  
  
"I think we need to work on your painting for the fair," Harry watched Draco's silver eyes droop, "but I like the picture," he added quickly.  
  
Draco smiled as he closed the sketchbook and looked around excitedly.  
  
"What are you going to paint?"  
  
"I'm not sure. That's what I love about painting, you have some idea of what you want, but you can change that," he stole another glance at Harry.  
  
"Yeah, but don't we need to start working on it?"  
  
"With two people, we can get it done in no time!" Draco jumped up from the merry-go-round and looked anxiously up at the sky, "It's getting late, where should we meet tomarrow?"  
  
"Um...we could meet here again," Harry thought about his friends who often visited the park to paint graffiti, "Er, no...let's meet at my house," he couldn't risk his reputation like this again, so he smiled and gave Harry directions from the school.  
  
"When do you want me to be there?" Draco ripped something out of his sketchbook and handed it to Harry.  
  
"You don't have to-"  
  
"I want you to have it."  
  
"Thanks," Harry pocketed the picture, "I'll see you tomarrow at 10."  
  
"Yeah, see you," Draco smiled widely and turned toward home.  
  
Harry turned the corner and walked down the cracked sidewalk, a block away from his house. He didn't hear the footsteps until they were right behind him.  
  
"Guess who?" a pair of hands covered his eyes, but he knew the voice.  
  
"Get off, Hermione," Harry violently shook her off.  
  
"What's wrong, babe?" Hermi trailed a hand over his flat chest and bit his earlobe.  
  
"Are you deaf, bitch? I said get off!" Harry yelled as he sped up.  
  
Hermi flinched, but sped up and walked in step with him, "Wazza matter?" she asked innocently, looking up to Harry.  
  
He stopped and looked at her, "What's the matter? You left me! You all did! You know, I never would've ran off on you guys," he fumed.  
  
"What'da expect me to do?" she yelled as he began to walk again, "Stay there with you? Take the heat? Oh, please, you woudn't do that for me!"  
  
"You know I would. I have before."  
  
"This is my last chance, Harry. One more screw-up and I'm in juvie,for good. No parol. No amount of kissing Snape's ass could save me," Hermi snapped, starting to walk away.  
  
"Whatever, I don't need or want you anyway!" Harry stormed into the building and found his flat, slamming the door behind him, "Mum, Dad, I'm home," he smiled to the picture of his mom and dad, forever smiling. He continued down the hall, pausing infront of a mirror- he never liked the thing.  
  
He took out the picture and compared it to his image reflecting back at him from the mirror.  
  
In the picture he looked noble and brave; the bravery part he had down, but the noble...that was another story.  
  
He didn't want to let Draco down for some reason, he wanted to keep that image.  
  
When he thought about Draco...he got the usual feeling...except there was something new there, something he couldn't describe. A tingly feeling and he never felt that way- or allowed himself to.  
  
"I guess I could make an exception," Harry smiled and went into his room.  
  
Draco opened the door to his house quietly, not wanting to disturb his father who was usually in his drunken stuper by now- when that happened, whoever he saw first got it the worst.  
  
Last night, he had cried when he told his mother what happened to his glorious painting and Harry offering to help.  
  
His father had overheard and stormed i, yelling about his son being a pansy; painting is nonsense- for girls and fags.  
  
He grabbed Draco and threw him against the wall, hitting him.  
  
Draco learned to stand still could possibly save his life, ending them quicker, so he stood still.  
  
"MY BOY IS NO FAG!" Lucius roared, hitting Draco with a book in the temple.  
  
Draco fell to the floor, blood pouting down his face.  
  
"If I ever catch you with that boy, you'll regret it!"  
  
He only dreamed of what Lucius would do, but he didn't care at this point.  
  
"I think I love you, Harry Potter" Draco whispered inthe sanctuary of his room. 


	3. painting room

Draco woke before dawn, like usual, and crept out of the house, innoticed but his half-awake father.  
  
He wandered up the silent streets wet from the rain last night.  
  
The street lamps were still lit, reflected in the shining black pavement.  
  
His feet slashed through the puddles as he clutched his picture tightly to his chest, panting from running away so fast.  
  
"What's the rush?" a cool voice said from behind.  
  
Draco turned and saw the Weasley twins- he'd been warned about them.  
  
"What's that?" one asked, an 'F' on his left arm left him guess it was Fred.  
  
"It's a picture..." Draco whispered, his eyes on the floor.  
  
"Aw...ickle Dracoline has a pwetty picture," the one with a 'G' on his left shoulder added.  
  
"Lemme see..." a new voice- a girl, he recalled a teacher calling her Hermione, appeared, "I wanna see this...'art'..." she laughed.  
  
"Let's go," a new voice muttered.  
  
It was Harry!  
  
"Harry?" Draco whispered a bit louder.  
  
"Let's go," he repeated louder, tuging down his baseball cap and making the others follow, "There's a few new cds I wanna pick up..."  
  
"Awesome," Ron grinned.  
  
Draco poised his pencil, glancing at the picture he'd been studying- his sketch from this morning.  
  
It was of a character of himself...  
  
It was a character of himself; of who he wanted to be...  
  
A young boy dressed in black robes that fell past his feet tied at the waist with a thin cord. Perched on his arm was a brilliant eagle-owl with its wings spread as if it'd just landed or was prepared to take off. Plastered on his face was a lopesided smirk.  
  
Behind him was a shy boy, dressed in white robes, his back turned as he looked over his shoulder. His hair was black and, though the black-and- white sketch didn't show it, his eyes shone like emeralds from mountain, never revealing their depth.  
  
Draco continued, biting his lip, to sketch it better on the large canvass, trying his hardest to concentrate but it was so damn hard to see with these tears in his eyes.  
  
He paused, rubbing them away only to get charcoal from his pencil on his cheek.  
  
He continued until he was satisfied with the sketch.  
  
The door creaked open and there stood Harry holding an expensive set of paint, a cd player, and a handful of cds.  
  
"Why are you here?" Draco asked softly.  
  
"I came to help," Harry bent down, plugging in the cd player and putting one on.  
  
The soft sounds of an orchastra filled the room as Harry pulled a stool up next to Draco.  
  
"I'm sorry for bailing on you this morning, but the new Lord of the Rings soundtrack came out," he lied, nodding towards the cd player, "I had to buy it," he added, his eyes on the floor hoping Draco'd fall for it.  
  
"Okay....forgiven," Draco smiled, wiping his cheek again, getting more charcoal pencil marks on them.  
  
"So..."  
  
"Just watch, you can help in a minute," Draco took out a fine brush, dipping it in water to soften the brustles and then opened the black paint Harry'd brought.  
  
Harry's eyes were focused on Draco's semiclosed ones as the blond squinted, consentrating on where the brush went, careful not to drip paint on it.  
  
Harry realized how long this would take to outline this frame, and consider how large the old one was, how long it must've taken.  
  
"Draco?"  
  
"Yeah?" Draco looked up, looking ridiculous with his face covered in flickers of paint and smear charcoal pencil marks alll over his face.  
  
"I'm sorry 'bout your other painting," Harry looked at his shoes.  
  
"I know, that's why you're helping me," Draco said innocently.  
  
"C'mon, let's go to my house after school today. Bring it," he nodded towards the painting.  
  
"Okay!" Draco grinned, washing his brushes and carefully putting them in a piece of soft cloth.  
  
Harry sighed opening the door; he's lied to his friends, telling them he had detention with Snape.  
  
Draco stumbled in the flat, his arms full with the painting, sketches, paint, and brushes.  
  
"Why don't we just leave it all here then you can work on it all the time," Harry handed Draco a spare key and opened the door to what he'd planned to be their studio.  
  
It was a vast room with a sliding glass door. It was empty except the stool and an easel he'd bought with his money.  
  
His parents were wealthy recording artists who'd died on a plane wreck.  
  
He shook the thought from his head as he watched the small blond set up.  
  
"This is wicked," Draco murmured, unfolding his brushes.  
  
Harry watched his face light up as he noticed something on the corner of the easel.  
  
"Wow! Harry!" Draco turned to Harry, grinning.  
  
On the corner was engraved "Draco Malfoy".  
  
"You didn't have to..."  
  
"I did..." Harry jumped as Draco hugged him.  
  
"You're the best!"  
  
Osiris: I've been totally out of it lately because I didn't have my sketchbook until now and I've lost so many ideas since then...damn...  
  
blinks  
  
anyway, Anubis it's your turn, and are you gonna give me a ride?!?!?! Did you even call or send the bloody thinng in? If not, you are so shunned! (jk) 


	4. Sleep overs

((Osiris Hey, Anubis and everyone else, I just decided to make 'em live in Japan because I like anime..yeah...Haha..hope no one minds 'cause I know more about Japanese schools than British...lol...If you don't like it sod off...))  
  
Harry carefully chipped the paint outside the black lines with the paint scraper.  
  
He flicked the chips onto the metal plate and there was a knock at the door.  
  
Harry threw it, the scraper getting stabbed into the wall.  
  
He locked the door to the painting room and jogged to the door.  
  
It flung open before he'd gotten to it, Fred grinning, holding up a hairpin behind him, his twin grinning the same, Hermi and Ron.  
  
"Bloody bastard," Harry grinned back closing the door behind them and disappearing into the kitchen.  
  
"So, what's the punishment?" George called.  
  
Harry reappeared holding five wine coolers and a bag of chips, "Nothing hard," he grinned.  
  
"Of course not," Fred grinned, "Anything for a piece of that," he pinched Harry's bum.  
  
"Only for you," Harry let his lips graze the red-head's before laying ontop of Ron who was stretched out on the couch.  
  
They knew he was only joking, but he'd been with each one atleast once alone and atleast once with all.  
  
They chatted about nothing and soon Ron left with Hermi and the twins left for a real party.  
  
Harry double locked the door and chained it and he ventured back into the living room of his flat, collecting the bottles and threw them away.  
  
"Was this the life you'd planned?" Harry asked the photo of a smiling couple all tattooed-up and peirced, "I hope not."  
  
The phone rang, interuptting his thoughts.  
  
"Hullo," he said fiercly into the phone.  
  
"I know it's late," a soft voice came, "but I've been, er, locked out and need a place to stay for the night."  
  
"Malfoy?"  
  
"Yeah," was the even softer reply.  
  
"Where are you?"  
  
Draco told him where the huge manor was and waited on the steps infront of the locked gate.  
  
'You're no son of mine!' his father'd yelled, shoving him into the street, 'I don't knnow why I have to put up with you! Ungrateful son-of-a-bitch!' his words were slurred. He'd been drinking most of the evening.  
  
His mother blew him a kiss from her tear-stained cheeks and kicked her cell phone to him when Lucius was not looking.  
  
The dim light of a motorcycle pulled up, "Draco?"  
  
"Harry?" Draco stood up, shivering uncontrolably.  
  
"Here," Harry handed him his leather jacket, "We'll work on the painting some, eh?" he forced a grin.  
  
"Yeah," Draco said softly, warily climbing on the bike behind the raven- haired boy.  
  
The ride was quick but cold.  
  
Harry swiftly pulled the key to his flat out of the mailbox.  
  
Draco raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Got tired of losing it..."  
  
Draco snorted as Harry tossed it into a bowl next to the door after locking it once more.  
  
"I hope your mum and dad don't mind," Draco smiled.  
  
Harry involuteerily flinched, "No, they're dead."  
  
"Ah," Draco flushed, walking towards their room.  
  
Harry unlocked it following Draco in.  
  
"Wow," he blinked, "It's near finished," he beamed up at Harry, "It'll be ready for the festival in no time!"  
  
"Festival, huh?"  
  
"A real prize winner," Draco began to mix paint.  
  
"What's the prize?" Harry asked.  
  
"One thousand dollars," Draco beamed, "I'm gonna use the money, I mean, after I split it with you, to move to America...or maybe Italy..."  
  
"Wow, sounds fun..." Harry smiled, dipping a brush into the paint.  
  
"Can you do backgrounds?" Harry asked, painting the engine of the motorcycle with silver.  
  
"Yeah, my specialty," Harry smiled, setting the bruck down and picking up a pencil to sketch trees.  
  
"The trees are what took so long on the first one," Draco laughed.  
  
Silence fell as they worked for hours. Harry poked Draco with the dull pencil, "We need to get some rest. You can sleep in my bed. I'll take the couch."  
  
"Oh, no!" Draco shook his head fervently, "I don't want to put you out!"  
  
"The couch folds out," Harry explained.  
  
"Ah, are you sure?"  
  
"Positive," Harry smiled at the blond's selflessness.  
  
Draco blushed, "But I don't have any pajamas."  
  
A laugh escaped before Harry could stifle it, "Just sleep in your boxers. It's what I do."  
  
Draco blushed a deeper red.  
  
"Don't worry- I won't molest you."  
  
The blond was now a red no human could ever become, but he had.  
  
"G'night," Harry disappeared down the hall.  
  
Draco found Harry's bedroom across from the painting room. He'd never seen the room, but it was bleak- a dark blue with a bed covered in a black spread. He quietly stripped to his boxers and climbed into the huge bed. It was so soft and deep; he felt like he'd sink into nothingness.  
  
‡‡‡  
  
The door creaked open and Harry sleepily stole a blanket from his closet and found a tiny light on with Draco sketching away.  
  
"You really love you art, don't you?" Harry smiled softly.  
  
"It is my true love," the blond sighed, "Thank you for helping me with this."  
  
A stab of guilt washed over Harry and he silently closed the door behind him.  
  
‡‡‡  
  
"So, Potter," Snape's lip curl, "Thought up an act yet?"  
  
Harry batted his long lashes and leaned in so he knew Snape could feel it on his neck, "We can-"  
  
"No, you will do something at the school's festival. I odn't care if you sell onigiri, just do something," Snape spun on his heel, his trench coat fluttering behind him.  
  
Harry sighed.  
  
"What was that all about?" Hermi asked, appearing behind him.  
  
"My only punishment he will not let go. I have to perform at the festival."  
  
"Damn..." she shook her head, "And you've got no talent."  
  
"Yeah, you didn't say that in bed."  
  
"So, you're talent's gonna be screwin'? I can see it now...'I need a member of the audience!'" she laughed.  
  
"You've got the most annoying laugh I've ever heard..." Harry sighed, "I took chorus back when I lived with Remus."  
  
"So, sing, little pansy, sing."  
  
As if on cue, Pansy Parkinson walked by wondering why Hermi and Harry were laughing at her.  
  
‡‡‡‡  
  
TCB 


End file.
